


Change

by Retortoise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Returns, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), Protective Bucky Barnes, Smut, combat scenes, cuddles cuz i love'em, gradual build, mutated!reader, un-beta'd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Retortoise/pseuds/Retortoise
Summary: It can happen gradually or all at once. Nonetheless, it happens, for better, for worse.---After being kidnapped by the dregs of HYDRA, you are bio-genetically fused with animal DNA in an effort to create a new breed of fighter. The Avengers, along with the slowly-recovering Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, inadvertently rescue you. With no where else to go and an uncontrollable mutation threatening your safety, they take you into their makeshift family.





	1. Inadvertent Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! :D I haven't written fanfiction in years, so please be kind with me. After a recent, burgeoning obsession with everyone's favorite broody soldier, I found that I had to write something about Bucky. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!
> 
> I also do want to say that the title and summary are subject to change...I sort of posted this spur-of-the-moment, so I'm not totally in love with them. It's likely the title will stay the same, but the summary may be developed or changed.
> 
> This is unBeta'd, so if reviewing works interests you, please contact me and maybe we can work something out.

A sharp-eyed woman eyed the veritable platoon of agents that rocked back and forth in the quinjet. Her gaze flickered from person to person, from rifle tip to rifle tip that peeked out from each agent’s shoulder, until it stopped on the familiar emblem of Captain America’s shield.

 

A brief flash of frustration flickered through her mind at her teammate. This was just supposed to be a simple “clean-up” mission from the recently-fractured S.H.I.E.L.D.--get in, take out what remnants of HYDRA they could find, and leave. It was _supposed_ to be--that is, until Cap insisted his recently-reclaimed partner Bucky Barnes come along. It had only been about six months since the Winter Soldier had been re-encountered by Steve in the streets of D.C. on a morning run. Three months and many tentative, awkward encounters later, Steve can finally convinced the man to live with them in Stark Tower. At the very least, he had insisted, it beat living on the streets.

 

Fortunately for all involved, Bucky was regaining his sense of self with some progress--but only snippets here and there. Every now and then an old joke would resonant within Bucky’s mind, agitating something dormant but nonetheless present. Physical training had proved to be one of the most effective coping mechanisms for the Winter Soldier; the direct outlet for his frustration was both needed and warranted. It was not unusual for him to wake up, doused in cold sweat, his jaw locked from clamping on a plastic mouthguard that wasn’t there.

 

Some days were more tiring or even upsetting than others, but Steve had been glad to see his friend in a safe environment once more--and Natasha was glad for him.

 

However, there was no bone in her body that was convinced Bucky could handle a mission right now, let alone one that confronted him with his previous captors. Hell, he had asked her to take the lead on this mission so he could be more focused on his friend.

 

As if highlighting her concern, moonlight filtered in through the quinjet window and glinted poignantly off of the Winter Soldier’s metal arm. Bucky stood somewhat stiffly next to Steve, who was going over the specs of the mission with his friend. He listened quietly but intently, which Natasha noted with both relief and apprehension: it appeared Bucky was nervous about his first mission as well.

 

“Five minutes out, get ready!” the pilot hollered over the rumbling of the quinjet engine.

 

Bucky shifted nervously beside Steve. The blond shot him a reassuring glance, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Just like old times,” he commented. He looked ahead to where the outline of an angular bunker began to form in the distance.

 

Bucky looked down at his metal arm, clenching and unclenching his fist. “Yeah, like old times.”

 

~*~

 

Once the quinjet was a mile or so out, it landed as silently as possible in a field behind the shroud of a coniferous forest. The air was cold. Pre-combat tension hung in the air, mirroring the fog that surrounded the group in misty stillness. As soon as everyone had deployed, the quinjet went silent and shut its lights off. Eerie, tendril-like shadows manifested along the forest floor, created by the moon and starlight that trickled down between the tangled branches of the canopy.

 

In the darkness, Bucky felt a familiar, tight presence in the back of his mind. Darkness caused confusion, obfuscation...it distorted what light made real, whole, known. From darkness sprang the seeds of his night terrors, or warped visions of his past. Darkness provided a perverse mirror of himself: a once-whole image drenched in shadow turned into something new, strange, and awful. He clenched his metal fist as he followed his companions.

 

Steve glanced at his friend, who seemed absorbed in his own thoughts. He knew what the silence meant, though Bucky had never--would never--tell him. When Bucky would get like this, it was like Steve was watching him fall all over again--only this time, into the dregs of his own past.

 

Steve placed a hand on the brunette’s shoulder in an effort to rouse him from his thoughts. Wordlessly, Bucky was snapped from his thoughts.He nodded in acknowledgment of his friend’s concern, sending him a grateful half-smile.

 

As they approached the separating point, Natasha quietly ordered the bulk of the team to wait alongside the edge of the forest. She approached the two Avengers, her eyes lingering on the Winter Soldier for a moment. Steve noticed and entreated her to speak with his eyes, to move the mission along quickly so as not to linger.

 

“I’m taking them in ahead, like we talked about,” the red-head began, gesturing to the awaiting agents with her hand. “You two follow up behind and take out anyone who’s late to the party.” Steve nodded shortly, Bucky closed his eyes and offered a single nod in understanding. “If anything goes wrong or anything weird happens, you know what to do.” She tapped the com-mic attached to her ear.

 

At her last statement, Steve sent a millisecond of an uneasy glance at Bucky. His friend noticed, but pretended not to.

 

~*~

 

Your eyes flickered from one scientist to another. There was no more space for your retreat; your back pressed the cool steel of the training chamber room.

 

Your attention snapped down to the crackling rod in one of the scientist’s hands. Electricity sprung from the dual prongs of the rod, reflecting off of his thick, plastic glasses. “I don’t want to do this again, but if you keep refusing your command…” He punctuated the last word with a surge of electricity to the prod. He pointed it directly at you, the uncontrolled energy leaping from the rod itself to a security light mere inches from your face. It exploded in a loud _pop_ , sending shards of glass across your face and into your hair.

 

A pulse, deep like the rumbles of a volcano, growled within your mind. You hastily wiped a hand across your face, ignoring the shards of glass that dug into your skin as you tried to ground your senses. You could not endure another attempt at transformation, so soon after the last fruitless endeavor.

 

You hand briefly drifted to the sides of your neck, where the last “encouragement” had been. Two angry sores throbbed under your touch, a burning sensation emerging in the back of your mind at the memory of how they got there.

 

Another sudden burst of electricity from a different source forced your hands in front of you in defense. The second scientist had approached this time, a twin electrical rod snapping in his hands. The same, primal rumble echoed again in the bottom of your skull.

 

Both of your hands came to your face, wiping over it in an attempt to soothe yourself.

 

“Subject seems to respond to fear-inducing stimuli…” a third scientist remarked from the door, behind the safety of the two aggressors. She made a few quick notes on the tablet in her hand. Your eyes narrowed at her-- _yeah, no shit_.

 

A sudden and jarring explosion rattled the room. Distant echoes of yells came from behind the door, as well as the familiar rattling of gunfire. Momentarily stunned, the two scientists advancing on you paused and turned in panic to the door.

 

“What was that?” the first snapped, tightening his grasp on his only line of defense.

 

The third scientist shook her head in confusion, hastily tapping at the tablet in an effort of finding an answer. A sudden warning flashed across her screen. She raised her eyes to her partners in the room and whispered, “Avengers.”

 

~*~

 

Steve peered along the corner of a long, metal hallway. All clear. He turned to Bucky, whose eyes flickered from door to door behind them, before motioning forward. They advanced in the trail of their teammates, dead or otherwise incapacitated HYDRA agents lying along the wall.

 

A sudden scream broke the intent silence between the two. Steve snapped his head around, “What was that?”

 

Bucky’s eyes widened in terror. He recognized the scream--or at least, the type of scream. It was not one of fear or shock, but of pain. One that was forced from him too many times. “Steve,” he began, the screams choking his voice for a moment, “Someone is being tortured here.”

 

Steve turned to his friend, bewildered. He opened his mouth to ask how he would know but didn’t. Instead, he spoke with resolve, “We have to find them.”

 

The two continued with a quickened pace down the hall, moving with the dynamism that marked their old days together. He bristled at another sudden scream that emerged from a closed door at the end of the hall. A crash sounded behind the door a moment later, causing the two to pause.

 

“Get AWAY from me!” a feminine voice screamed from behind the door. A loud snapping sound came after the cry, followed by scream that sounded as though it were ripped from someone’s throat.

 

The sounds became too much. Every pained cry wrought another memory from the confines to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. Without a second thought, he charged the door.

 

“Bucky!” Steve shouted after his friend, immediately grabbing his shield from its place on his back. “Dammit!”

 

~*~

 

The first scientist hit the wall with a resounding _thud_. His head lolled to his shoulder before slumping chin-down against his collarbone. He was out.

 

You turned to the second one, eyes flecked with gold. You lowered your hand from where it had thrown the scientist into the wall. The honed edges of claws had taken the place of your fingernails, and frightening, uncontrolled strength had sent your assailant away from you. Another familiar rumble arose in the back of your mind, feral, seductive, and angry. You threw your hands over your eyes and wailed in agony as you felt the remnants of your control slipping away.

 

The second scientist appeared terrified, dropping his electrical weapon to the floor and heading to the door. The third smiled at the action, raising a pistol from her hip and pointing it directly between his frightened eyes.

 

“Pick your weapon up, Doctor Krieger. We’re not done here yet.”

 

The second scientist stared down the barrel of the gun. “W-We have to leave! The Avengers are here, she is losing control and she took out Reid--!”  


The third scientist’s smile did not falter. “You will not stand in the way of our objective. Pick your weapon up and do your job, or I will shoot you where you stand.”

 

Krieger inhaled a short breath before bending down and reclaiming the rod in his hands. On nervous feet, he turned to you. Your hands fell to your sides, eyes shut in pain. “Please…” you began, tears burning their way from behind your eyes and falling down your cheeks.

 

He raised the rod to you and sent a bolt of energy through it, livening the weapon with hissing electricity.

 

Your eyes snapped open. Your original color was now totally gone; you could feel the burn of gold overcome your senses. “Get AWAY from me!” you roared, your voice surging beyond any human means of sound. It was primal, like a bellow, and rattled the confines of the room.

 

Krieger wilted under the sound of your voice, but forced a step forward when the clicking of a gun sounded before him. “Go on,” the woman insisted gently, raising the gun in the air, “Engage with the subject.”

 

The man looked into your terrified, terrifying eyes and raised the rod to you. He surged the weapon with power, thrusting it through the air at you. With a snarl, you leapt forward at him, grabbing the end of the weapon and screaming in pain when the electricity crackled through your bones.

 

He pressed on, putting all of his weight against the rod until you could hold it back to longer and it rammed forward, two electrical prongs on either side of your neck. They slid perfectly, morbidly, into the scars left from last time.

 

More jolts of electricity sprung down your body, into your brain and down to your toes. You wailed in agony, clawing blindly at your attacker. You felt the burn begin to totally eclipse your senses, you felt the final threads of your sanity being burned away by the primal fires rising in your chest.

 

Unable to contain it, you released a guttural roar, your bones, body, your soul changing from underneath your skin. Tawny fur sprouted all over your body. Your limbs elongated into the slender but strong limbs of a lion. A long tail dangled between your legs as you struggled against your attacker. Your claws honed and flexed on your newfound paws.

 

Everything sounded muffled, except for your own breathing. You let out another enraged bellow, kicking forward with your long legs and sending Krieger against the wall, beside the first scientist. A sickening _snap_ came from his back; some predatory part of your mind, stronger than ever before now, noted that his spine was broken. The rod crackled around your neck, stuck in the wall from Krieger’s force. Electricity still came from the weapon, less pronouncedly than before, but enough to blur the lines of concentration in your mind. You swiped at it impotently, your heavy paws both pushing down on the offending object before finally dislodging it from the wall. It _clanged_ to the floor. You slumped down after, briefly catching yourself on your hind legs before falling exhaustedly onto the cold, metal floor. The outside edge of your vision began to haze.

 

The third scientist looked on, pleased. Her work was done. A transformation had occurred. She marked a few boxes, wrote a few notes on her tablet as she watched you slaughter her colleague in interest. Krieger would die, but that was to be expected. She approached the exit panel on the wall, typing a brief code that opened a panel of flooring beside her. As she stepped down into the darkness, she mused to herself, “Perhaps you must be treated like an animal in order to become one…” The floor sealed behind her.

 

As you watched her vanish, wondering if you had imagined her words. _I’m not_ ... _I’m not an animal_...

 

Your vision continued to darken. Your focus and fear gone, the feral heartbeat in the depths of your mind abated and left in its wake a cold sort of clarity. You felt your body shift back into human form.

 

The distant sound of the door being broken open forced your eyes to focus on two figures. You looked up at them, eyes barely able to focus on their concerned faces. The pulse of animosity did not return at the entrance of these two strangers; in a desperate moment, you took this as a good sign.

 

You stared into the steel-blue eyes of the first man you saw. “Please,” you choked, voice damaged from electrical shock, “Help me.”

 

Your mind was fading. As your vision began to blacken, you saw the man bending down, arms reaching for you.

 

The cold floor.

 

A rush of air.

 

A solid chest. A steady heartbeat. A first comfort after unknowable fear.

 

You passed out.


	2. The Foreign Concept of Safety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! This update is shorter but it seemed like a good place to end this chapter so I'm going with my gut on this one. I hope you guys are liking it so far--thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos, or bookmarked! I would really appreciate comments if you don't mind dropping me one. I love to hear what people think of my work. :)

Before you had even opened your eyes, you could smell your new environment: the disinfected air of a hospital. There was something else there, too, just under your nose--something paradoxically foreign and familiar at the same time. As best as you could, you employed your other senses to assess your environment. 

 

From behind your closed lids, you could tell that the lights were out. Ambient in the air were soft beeping sounds of monitors attached to the numerous IVs in your arms and hands. Soft sheets and a thick quilt draped over your body. The bed was plush, the pillows beneath your head almost an entirely foreign sensation of comfort and softness. A gentle weight rested across your shoulders and arms. The electrical wounds on your neck pulsed faintly from beneath new gauze bandages.

 

It was only when you attempted to extend your attention beyond yourself that you became anxious--someone else was in the room. 

 

A quivering rumble arose in the back of your mind. It wrought a hiss of pain out of you as the familiar, creeping sensation of golden fire bloomed in your veins. Your hands fisted into the sheets.

 

A gentle touch at your wrist dissipated the fiery sensation instantly, like blowing out a candle. You forced your eyes open.

 

Your eyes met with the same steel-blue ones from before. They were softer now than they were the first time you saw them. You allowed yourself to glance across the rest of the person’s face now; the man is alarmingly handsome. Your eyes drifted over the scruff that covered his jaw, the tiniest line in between his brows as he watched you intently--it’s when you looked down to the curvature of his lips that you felt your face warming, this time not from the onset of a transformation but something completely different. 

 

Perhaps if you weren't so weak, you may have been able to keep yourself from staring, turn your head away or something, but the ache at your neck kept you still. You opted for closing your eyes slowly and trying to relax your shoulders beneath the pleasant warmth of whatever lay across them.

 

Something about the man’s presence was comforting; you found yourself silently sniffing at the air to gauge him. Ever since your Evolution, or whatever it was those fanatics had called it, you found your baseline senses heightened in strange yet not unuseful ways. Scenting someone, as they called it, was often an appropriate and accurate method of assessing a target. 

 

Or in this case, an unknown man resting his hand on yours in a dark hospital room. 

 

You snorted to yourself softly in amusement, which earned a quirked eyebrow from your “roommate.” You searched for your voice to explain the innumerable bizarre paths your life had been shunted down as of late, but found yourself unable to speak. Too tired. Too weak. You felt your vision going blurry again.

 

The man seemed to understand your silence and fatigue. You thought you saw the smallest upturn at the corner of his lips, but it was too hard to focus. He seemed to notice, opened his mouth and began speaking, but you began to feel as though you were being pulled backwards into unconsciousness. 

 

As you tried to listen to what he said, you felt as though you were running against the rain and wind of a thunderstorm. Nonetheless, you managed to latch onto the words, “You’re safe. Rest.”

 

So you did.

 

~*~

 

Two figures slid quietly into the room. Bucky glanced up at them in acknowledgement before turning his eyes back to your sleeping form. The heart monitor continued its steady rhythm.  Outside, silvery moonlight began to give way to the first stretches of gold across the horizon. Realizing how much time had passed, Bucky ran a hand through the post-mission sweat and grime in his hair. 

 

“You stay in here all night with her, Buck?” Steve asked, glancing concernedly first to his friend and then to you.

 

His friend didn’t answer but kept his gaze firmly on you. 

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Natasha answered, observing the state of the Winter Soldier. She and Cap had changed out of their mission uniforms into more relaxed clothing, while Bucky remained in the midnight-black of his combat attire. It appeared he hadn’t left since he brought you to this room himself. 

 

In her assessment of your state, the red-haired assassin observed a jacket draped over your shoulders. She smirked to herself, quirking a brow at Bucky, but said nothing. Perhaps later, she thought. It wasn’t unreasonable--they had found you all but naked, draped in torn shreds of clothing--but certainly unusual.

 

“They were torturing her,” Bucky began, earning solemn looks from his teammates. “I watched Doctor Cho spend over an hour just taking care of the wounds on her neck.”

 

Natasha quietly approached your bed. She glanced over your body, her eyes bouncing from bandage to bandage that covered the majority of your exposed skin. When her eyes settled on your neck, she recalled the electrical rod Steve had mentioned from the room they found you in. Her lip curled in disgust. “How did she survive?”

 

Bucky’s eyes fell from your hand to his own metal one that rested in his lap. “I think they did something to her.” 

 

Steve stared intently at you. He remembered the two dead scientists from the room. He remembered the unknown markings on the wall and floor, the way your clothes had been seemingly ripped to pieces across your body. It didn’t add up. “I think you may be right.”

 

A stronger ray of morning light flared in through the window. It trailed up to Bucky’s face, revealing the lines of exhaustion that had been hidden under the shadows of night. Steve frowned. “You need to sleep, Buck. She’ll be alright.”

 

When he didn’t respond, Steve rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. The contact roused the attention of the tired soldier, but he made no sign of standing up. “I can sleep here.” he finally answered. 

 

Steve sighed, but a part of him was relieved at his friend’s behavior. It seemed the loyal, protective side of Bucky remained unyieldingly intact. He went over to the window and slid the curtains down; the room was once again hugged in a soothing darkness. 

 

With a lasting glance at you and his friend, Steve spoke softly, “We’ll be back later in the morning to check on her.” 

 

Bucky nodded. “Thanks, Steve,” he said quietly, sincerely. Surprised for a moment, Steve smiled at his old friend. He then turned and left the quiet room, Natasha following behind. 

 

The monitor beeped out a reminder of your stability. The room was softened by the darkness of the curtains. It was hours past when he usually retired to bed. He focused on the sound of your breathing, rhythmic and soft, as his eyes drifted shut. 

  
It wasn’t long before Bucky conceded to his fatigue and slept. His hand still remained on yours. 


	3. A New Reality

_ A rush of wind swept over your consciousness. Everything felt fragmented and distant but fast approaching; you instantly became aware you were dreaming. Ever since your “new life” with HYDRA, your dreams had changed entirely. They weren’t even like dreams anymore but rather pseudo-realities--not a part of your waking world but “real” to you nonetheless.  _

 

_ The air smelled like rain-soaked earth, the cause of which fell from the sky all around you but never seemed to touch your skin. You opened your eyes slowly, investigating at your surroundings. You were seated on the leaf-laden floor of some unknown forest. Indomitable trees towered above your head, some as thick across as houses and others mere saplings no taller than your knee. The canopy created by the giants obfuscated the sunlight entirely. Somehow, however, you could see.  Everything seemed doused in some sort of ephemeral haze, silvery tendrils slipping between the black trunks of the ancient and new trees. There was no one else around, yet you could feel eyes on you. Dozens of them, in fact.  _

 

_ Unsettled, you rose to your feet. Leaves shuffled in the distance and branches broke under unseen weight. Another sweeping gust of wind came, this time from behind you, and threw the leaves in front of you into the air. A path revealed itself beneath them, leading further into the woods.  _

 

_ With no other direction to go, you began to follow the path.  _

 

_ Tiny insects of all colors scattered with every other step you took, seeking refuge in the underbrush lining your path. Some would stop and look at you with their tiny eyes, glowing gold in the darkness.  _

 

_ You still felt the presence of something else here, and it began to press more forcefully on your mind. As you walked on, you felt as though you were more aware of its growing heartbeat more than your own. Yellow-eyed snakes and lizards skittered out of your way before raising their heads from the ground to watch you pass. _

 

_ Fluttering wings sounded above you as innumerable birds took roost in the tree branches. They were joined by every mammalian tree-dweller you knew and countless more you did not. They watched you silently. You glanced at the jury of creatures, their array of golden eyes appearing more like constellations than something earthly.  _

 

_ The heartbeat in your mind grew stronger and more insistent.  _

 

_ Frightened by now, you hastened your pace to a run, trying to ignore the racing shadows behind and beside you. The pulsing in your mind blocked out all other sound; it was now a fervent mix of your own adrenaline, emotions, and something that seemed to exist all around you. It was a foreign lifeforce fused with your own.  _

 

_ As you ran, the trees gradually appeared closer and closer together. You shoved the lower branches out of your way just to press onward. You could barely see ahead of you the trees were so thick. It was growing darker, too; it seemed as though every step forward you took you deeper into the bowels of the forest. Brambles and thorns suddenly were around your leg, biting painfully into your flesh and forcing you to fall to the ground.  _

 

_ As soon as you hit the ground, you found yourself tumbling down a steep slope. Hard rocks stabbed into your body and dirt followed in the wake of your form. When you finally stopped, you were sitting at the precipice of a great cliff. There was a great expanse of nothingness beyond it. _

 

_ The heartbeat was deafening now. The terror it choked from your soul forced you to your feet. You stared into the abyss beneath and beyond the cliff.  _

 

_ Suddenly, the heartbeat stopped. You could hear the panting breaths that left your lips. Then you turned around. _

 

_ A panoply of all beasts of the Earth stood before you. Great and powerful giant creatures; small and creeping creatures; those with dominion over sea, land, or sky; fanged and clawed animals; hooved and horned animals; those long feared by mankind or those that worked alongside it for centuries. Their collective gaze regarded you silently--a unified, piercing, gold-glowing scrutiny.  _

 

_ The dreamscape began to rumble. You became aware of your own heartbeat, pounding frantically in your chest. A single, pronounced pulse came from within your chest and throughout your entire body, yet it did not fill you with pain--it filled you with power. The creatures sat like totems, eyes remaining fixated on you. Something primal and alive emitted from them, an echo of the force in your chest. _

 

_ Suddenly, two electrical prongs encircled your neck. The vision of creatures before you dissipated into the cold, steel wall of your training room. Voices cackled behind you as surges of electricity jolted through your body, wrenching screams of agony from your throat.  _

 

_ “No no no no no....!” you cried, twisting your body in a feeble attempt to escape. You tried to focus your fear and anger into some kind of retaliation, to trigger a transformation, but nothing was happening.  _

 

_ The sensation of cool metal brushing your arm jarred your mind. You frantically snapped your attention to the gentle gesture, recoiling your hand for fear of further assault. _

 

“Whoa, whoa, it’s alright,” a voice sliced through the ephemera of your dream. Your eyes blinked open at the soothing sound; it was perhaps the nicest thing you had heard in a long while. 

 

When you became aware of yourself, you noticed that you were holding your hands clutched tightly around something, brought close into your chest in a defensive posture. Your heart was racing. The heart-rate monitor that had once been a steady and soothing was now a frenetic, near-constant sound. Adrenaline burned through your veins, stronger than it used to as a result of your Evolution. It made you more tight, more anxious, more perceptive of your surroundings. 

 

You assumed it was daylight as a result of the curtains drawn at the window, though it had been some time since you had any sense of what hour it was. Nonetheless, a presence in the back of your mind insisted it was daytime--morning, even. The room seemed kept in order and everything well-attended; the IVs you felt last night were still in place and where you had once felt the pulsing of wounds you now felt the soft texture of bandages. You were in the same, plush bed that you had passed out in the night before, the sheets still draped over you in a pleasant warmth. You found yourself relaxing, your hands releasing the fabric of a stranger’s jacket. 

 

You blinked at the well-worn clothing in your hands. You realized it bore the same scent as the man sitting next to you. The sound of a clearing throat caught your attention. You looked up at who you could only assume was its owner, your gaze becoming ensnared in the blue eyes staring back at you.

 

“You weren’t exactly clothed when we found you,” he began, nodding his head at the jacket which was now crumpled in your lap. You felt embarrassment creep into the back of your mind, scrunching your face in apology. “It was laying around and--well, you seemed like you needed it more than I did.” 

 

So this was his, then. You felt your embarrassment flare at how you had essentially been clinging to this stranger’s clothing like a frightened child, but you could not deny how it had soothed you in a way you couldn’t explain. You hoped he wouldn’t press the issue; you looked up at him to search his visage for some kind of clue about what he was thinking.

 

His expression was earnest, open, free of ulterior motive. Something in his eyes seemed to understand something about you that you yourself did not. It was strange, but comforting.

 

You returned his words with a small smile. “Thank you,” you murmured. There were hundreds of things you wanted to say, and thousands more to ask, but you could not help indulging yourself in this quiet moment with this gentle stranger. You felt his eyes on you, but you did not mind.

 

Finally, he spoke. “What’s your name?” 

 

“_________,” you answered without hesitation. During your stint with HYDRA, your name was the one thing you felt you owned. The same could not be said of your belongings, your home, or--in light of your Evolution--your humanity. You shook your head, trying to banish the thoughts that lingered ever-present in the back of your mind. You felt the hot sting of tears prick at your eyes but steeled yourself against them. 

 

The man sensed your troubled emotions bubbling to the surface, saw the beginnings of tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. “My name’s Bucky,” he said, extending a hand. You stared at it for a moment, blinking up to his eyes. They remained sincere. 

 

For the first time in what felt like forever, you initiated contact with another human being--you gently took his larger hand in your own, shaking it in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Bucky,” you replied. Emboldened by his relaxed state, you decided to broach the myriad of questions that had flooded your mind the instant you had awoken. “What exactly happened? How did I--”

 

You were cut off by two knocks on the door. The noise goaded your anxiety, causing you to recoil your hands once more close to your body and into the fabric of Bucky’s jacket. The handle rotated and two people walked in; Bucky didn’t react strongly to their entrance so neither did you. One was tall and musclebound, with blond hair and a strong jaw. He gave an air of confidence, but not arrogance. He looked familiar. His companion was a shorter female, red-haired with sharp eyes that, while calm, seemed to see right through you. It was slightly unnerving. She gave you a small, reassuring smile.

 

The two seated themselves in the chairs that lined the wall next to the door. “My name is Natasha.” The woman must have sensed your barely perceptible unease and chose to break the silence. “This is Steve,” she gestured to the blond. 

 

You offered a small smile and “hello” of greeting. A sudden wave of fatigue had washed over you and taken with it your urge to speak. 

 

“Bucky and I found you unconscious in a HYDRA compound,” Steve began, monitoring your expression carefully. “Do you know what you were doing there?” 

 

You tried to recall what happened before you were brought to the hospital. You knew you were in the bowels of the underground compound that had become your living space--for there was no way you would ever call it your “home.” You cast your eyes downward at your arms that were entwined in Bucky’s jacket. Raising, your right arm, you turned it over so the soft flesh was exposed, the blue veins under your flesh mocking you with their presence. 

 

“They changed me,” you answered, concentrating on the lines beneath your skin.

 

Steve carefully pushed the subject, “In what way?”

 

You elongated your arm, splaying your fingers into the air. You thought of the eyes of the beasts from your dream. Closing your eyes, you flexed your hand, clenching into a fist; the primal sound thrummed alive in the back of your mind. You lowered your hand to your lap. “If I show you, will you help me?” 

 

Steve and Natasha shot each other what only they knew to be a nervous glance. In their experience, that could mean just about anything. Natasha immediately began to re-evaluate her decision to agree to bring you to the Avenger’s compound--had Bucky’s hubris put all of them in danger?

 

“We will try,” Bucky spoke quietly. His two companions looked at him quizzically, to which he returned with an simple, earnest expression.

 

Steve conceded to his friend, giving a slight nod before turning his attention to you. “We will do what we can.” He rose to his feet, prompting Natasha to do the same. “For now, though, you really need to rest.”

 

“We will come check on you again around dinnertime, if that’s alright?” Natasha asked, again giving you a gentle smile. 

 

This time, you returned the gesture whole-heartedly. Sleeping sounded wonderful. Although you had only been up for what had to have been less than an hour, you felt tired again, as if the burden of constant terror were finally being lifted and leaving in its wake utter exhaustion.

 

“You should probably come eat something, Buck,” Steve said to his friend, hoping for a more receptive response. 

 

To his surprise, he got it. The brunette rose to his feet and looked at his friends, “You two go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

 

As he reached for the door, Steve gave his friend a lasting look. Deciding to trust him once more, he turned the handle and left, Natasha following closely behind. The door was left ajar.

 

Bucky turned his attention back to you. A part of you didn’t want him to leave, for which you chastised yourself. After all, this man was still essentially a stranger. Gentle and soothing as his presence was, you still didn’t know who he was. You looked into his eyes, his steel-blue, piercing eyes…

 

Wait…

 

“Were...were you the one that saved me?” you asked.

 

Bucky smiled, unhindered and true. “I wasn’t raised to abandon a lady in need.”

 

A blush sprang unbidden to your cheeks. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and grabbed his gloved hand, bringing it to rest under your chin. “Thank you,” you whispered, emotion choking the end of your words. Tears slipped down your cheeks, rolling onto his glove. 

 

He gingerly raised his hand from yours and brushed away the tears on your face.  “You’re safe,” he said, echoing his words from last night. “It’s alright now.” His hand lingered a moment before falling back down to his side. 

 

You watched him as he gathered his phone and what looked like a journal from your bedside table. He turned back to you, his expression soft. “I’ll be back later.” He glanced down surreptitiously at the jacket still curled over your lap; if not for your enhanced senses, you wouldn’t have noticed the almost imperceptible action. 

 

You smiled gently, nodding and settling as he turned to leave. “Thank you, Bucky,” you murmured, pulling the soft fabric of the jacket closer. Curling around it, you rolled onto your side and closed your eyes. 

  
Warm and safe, the scent of the jacket pulled you into the embrace of sleep. 


End file.
